Past Perspective
by Web Weaver 7
Summary: Takes place after Voldemort is defeated, begins with a depressed Harry
1. Aftermath

Author's Intro 

Since I skipped Harry's 6th and most of his 7th years, here's a list of important stuff that 

happened during that time:

Ron and Hermione began going out (who _didn't_ expect that to happen?) Harry, Ron and Hermione continued to hang out with Luna, though Harry the most because he really has the most in common with her. Ginny became a very powerful witch and similar to Hermione, and she and Hermione tend to mess with Ron's head a lot. When Harry killed Voldemort, something happened that really traumatized him (I'm not telling you what it was cause that would wreck the story, but just know that something happened) At the end of his 6th year, the Lestranges almost broke out of Azkaban when Voldemort went there to try and recruit dementors in yet another attempt to kill Harry. They didn't escape, but were able to send a note concerning their niece's and nephew's future involvement with Voldemort. The niece and nephew are twins, and at the time they were nine years old. Neville was instrumental in helping Harry defeat Voldemort. However, memories of his parents being tortured came back to him, and they have been reverberating in his head. Dumbledore has tried to talk to him once before, but nothing really came of that. Professor Trelawny's daughter found her mother at the end of Harry's 6th year, and soon afterwards she had a prophecy regarding Harry, Neville, and the He-Who-Brings-Great-Evil. 

That's about it. Enjoy!****

Chapter 1- Aftermath 

            Hermione let out an annoyed grunt. Then another one. And another one. Then she realized how silly she must sound and let out a long sigh instead. Ron sighed inside his head and wished that Hermione talked soon, because she was really getting on his nerves. A second later, his wish was granted

            "I wish he'd come out of his funk- I'm really starting to worry."

            "Starting?" Ron asked wryly.

            "Oh, you know what I mean. It's not healthy. And not just because all of the textbooks say it isn't, because it's Harry and he's got to start letting out what he feels.

"Well, he did a bit to Luna when he first returned-"

"And since then has said practically nothing. He doesn't even eat well! The other day, I asked him if he wanted mashed potatoes or turnips, and he just saidHarry and 'well, what does it matter anyway, it's just nutrients going into futile body.' He really said that! God, I just wish I could _do_ something!" She paused, gasped, and her eyes lit up. "Oh my god, it's so simple, why didn't I see it before?"

She jumped up and began pacing, murmuring to herself. Ron had a pretty good guess what it was that she'd thought of, and he didn't like it. "Hermione, you can't make him do it if he's not willing to do it himself…"

"No! See, that's the problem, that we've let him let himself go. We've let him completely indulge in his sorrow. He's never going to pull himself out of it, so we've got to do it for him. And I don't care how much you try to talk me out of it, you're not changing my mind." And with that, she marched up to Harry's dorm with that determined look on her face, and Ron could not help but feel a sorry for Harry and what he was going to get.

                                                *          *          *

            Harry didn't know how long he'd been lying in his bed. The hours seemed to melt into days seemed to melt into weeks now. Wow, his sense of time was really skewed. His sense of everything was really skewed. 

When he had defeated- correction, killed- Voldemort, he'd felt so...jubilant. Yet somehow he then became very disoriented, and he didn't even know he was in such a state until he couldn't pull himself out. For if he'd recognized he was slipping, he certainly would have tried to pull himself out.

Or would he have? Ah, well, it didn't really matter now how many woulda, shoulda, coulda scenarios he came up with; they wouldn't replace the reality he was in. One comforting thought, though, was that at least he didn't have to face other people as the...being that he was. 

He would have continued his wallowing had Hermione not burst into the room, singing, "You gotta, get up, you gotta get up, you gotta get up in the morning. You gotta get up, you gotta get up, you gotta get up today!" She began trying to open the curtains, whose rod, unfortunately for her, had broken long ago.

"Shut up!" Harry cried, covering his ears. "That song's annoying as hell!"

Hermione stopped trying to pull open the curtains, (rather, gave up, but she'd never admit that to herself) turned and stared at Harry for a second. She was relieved that he finally expressed a normal emotion. She'd been reading up on his condition and worried more with each day. But she quickly checked that reaction and responded with a "Don't you talk to me like that, Harry Potter! You've been lying here for weeks, doing nothing, not even eating properly, and it's gone on long enough! In 15 minutes, I will come back to take you down to breakfast. If you choose to, you may put on clothes and brush your teeth. If not, I will just drag you into the Great Hall in your pajamas- something which I'm sure Draco Malfoy would enjoy seeing." She paused and turned to leave. "Good morning," she added as an after thought and as a parting.

Partly for the sake of appearances and partly because he felt it, Harry put a shocked look on his face as if he had been deliberately wronged. However, a small part of him- mind you, a very small part- was just the tiniest bit glad that Hermione was forcing him to live his life again, because he didn't have the strength to force himself to. 

Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed, felt around for his glasses, and shuffled off to the bathroom. He washed up and shoved on jeans and a sweatshirt. He didn't feel like wearing robes and if he _had_ to go out, not one was sure as hell going to force him to. Come to think of it, that would be a good way to escape, freak out about some comment someone made on his clothes and go running back to the dorm. They all thought he'd gone crazy anyway, why not act it?

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came softly from the other side of the door. "I'm coming in, so if you're not dressed…well, please be."

Harry smiled to himself at her inadvertent ad-libbing. It was rare to see her in an unpoised moment. Hermione turned the knob and entered a little cautiously (in case he really wasn't dressed). She peeked around the door, then opened it the whole way and practically leapt to him, grabbing his arm quite forcefully and dragging him out the door. She had pulled him down the stairs, across the common room, and out of the portrait hole before he complained that she was hurting his arm. She eased up, and then they walked slowly down to the Great Hall.

                                    *          *          *

"You ready?" She asked him.

"Would it matter if I said no?" he half-sighed.

Hermione smiled and pushed open the door. As she did so, almost everyone turned to look in their direction. Immediately, there was mass whooping  and clapping. Harry just walked quickly, trying not to meet anyone's eyes.

Thankfully, Dumbledore stood up to speak, so everyone quieted down. "As you have all noticed, Harry Potter is back. I ask you to join me in raising your goblets to toast him on his defeat of Voldemort."

Some people still flinched at the name, but everyone raised their glasses and even began clapping again, but Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "Yes, we are all very happy and relieved that this threat is no longer among us. However, there are a few announcements I must make. First of all, although I am sure you would all like to welcome Harry back, I must remind you that you all still have classes to attend, and older students have O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s to study for. Secondly, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall are back, which I am sure you are over the moon about (many students rolled their eyes at this comment), and they expect you to remember everything you've learned while they were away. So if you've been goofing off with the substitute, I advise you to brush on your information. And that's it for this morning. Have a good day." Then he sat down and resumed eating.

Most of the students began grumbling about the teachers being back and forgot, at least for the moment, about Harry. Harry felt very grateful to Dumbledore on giving him some respite from everyone's stares. However, there were still his friends at the Gryffindor table who would not forget him. It was a good thing, he supposed, but not one which he wanted particularly much at the moment. He put some pancakes and syrup on his plate and began eating to avoid looking at them. He wondered how long he would last before he got full (he wasn't all that hungry to begin with), so he ate very slowly. 

He was vaguely aware of them making hand signals and mouthing things so he wouldn't hear, but of course he couldn't confirm it because in order to do that he would have to look up and then they might start speaking to him; and he just couldn't handle that yet. He kept on taking food until finally the bell rang and they started getting up to go to class. Ron left his side for a moment, talked in hushed tones to Hermione and a few other people, then returned. Soon the Great Hall was empty and it was just the two of them. Harry put his fork down, took a deep breath, and turned to face the person next to him. 

He was then very surprised when he saw that it was not Ron beside him. It was Luna.

            "Uh.." Harry was stunned for a second. "Um, hi."

            "Hi," she replied. Then she became silent, waiting for him to speak. She was rather content to have the both of them continue looking at each other until he was ready to speak.

            Harry, on the other hand, was uncomfortable continuing the silence for more than a few seconds. They may call her 'loony,' but she had quite a sane and penetrating gaze. He hated being under it so intently. 

"What do you want me to say?" He had intended for it to come out defensive, but it came out kind of deflated.

"What do you want to say?" She asked frankly. She was _not_ making this easy for him.

"I have nothing to say really. I think." He paused. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

"What I want to say."

"How can you figure it out?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know a lot"

"Thanks for the observation." He was getting pretty annoyed now. 

"You're welcome." Then they were both silent again. Luna decided to try another approach. "What are you going to do today?"

"I don't know"

"So figure it out. Set a goal for today and use the time to accomplish it."

"Good thinking, my dear shrink."

"Ha ha."

"I wasn't joking."

"Neither was I. And I'm not trying to be your shrink. I'm trying to help you start doing stuff again. As in, getting up, working on something, going to sleep, etc."

"Thanks but no thanks. And besides, even if I did take your _sagely_ advice, I wouldn't even have a goal, so it's a moot point either way." He met her eyes for a second, then sat back and tried to give off a very blasé air.

Luna smiled inwardly. Oh, yes, she was getting somewhere. "What do you think is worthwhile to do?"

"I don't think much is worthwhile, really. Anymore."

"What about something for another person?"

"Yeah, like who?"

"Who needs something?"

"I don't know."

"Well, then stop feeling bad for yourself long enough to devote some thought to it."

Somewhere in the back of Harry's brain, it occurred to him that Luna had just insulted him. But he tried to listen to her and really think of someone who needed something. "Neville,"  he said quietly.

"What does Neville need?"

"He needs to cut out a section of his memory, that's what he needs."

"You can't do that for him."

"Well, then he needs to feel better somehow."

"So make him feel better."

Harry sighed. No way could he do that. How was he supposed to? He couldn't even fend for himself. Yet, his mind turned back to when Neville had fought so bravely for his, Harry's, sake, even though it made him hurt inside as well as out. "I owe him," Harry more thought than said, but he said it out loud.

"Friends don't measure things owed. But ignoring that- okay. So…?"

"So- what?"

"So what are you going to do for him?"

"I don't know."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't need because Harry knew exactly what she was thinking. "Yeah, yeah, I don't know a lot. So what else is new?" He rolled his eyes and got up from the table to leave. Luna almost followed, but she shook her head and resolved (for the thousandth time) to stop babying him. If he was to act normal, she'd have to start treating him that way.

Harry was slightly irritated with Luna, but not really angry at her. The problem was that she refused to take any crap from him, or let him feed it to himself. That was a good thing, he supposed, you know, to have someone look out for you and do that for you. But it was just so inconvenient for him.

*          *          *

Hermione and Ginny walked to the common room quietly but not silently. Well, their heads weren't silent, at least. Finally, Ginny could not take her own head anymore.

"Hermione?"

Hermione didn't respond.

"Hellooo?" Ginny bugged out her eyes and stood in front of Hermione. "Come back, the aliens don't need you that bad."

"Huh?" Hermione snapped out of it and noticed Ginny, and interpreted the last comment. "Oh sorry, my head's screwed up. Were you saying something to me?" Hermione slurred her words a bit, as if she'd just gotten up, or some drugs had just worn off.

"Well, I was about to, then I had to wake you up, and now here we are." She paused and got to her point. "I'm really nervous for him."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Is he gonna be okay? Ever?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping that since I got him up this morning, he'll start getting up and doing things on his own."

"How did you know it would be good for him?"

"What, getting him up?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't. I still don't."

There was an uneasy pause. Ginny decided to try another subject.

"When do N.E.W.T.'s start?"

"In two weeks. I don't how I'm going to pass them."

"Hermione, you go into every test saying you'll fail, and then you get the highest grade in the class."

"Yes, but this test could be different. It _is_ different."

Ginny looked at her sideways. "You know, you say that with every other test, too."

Hermione swatted at her. "Well, at least I'll do better than that brother of yours, unless he decides to actually be serious and study." 

"Hmp!" Ginny snort-laughed. "That's likely to happen."

"Well, it will soon, because if not I'll be riding him hard to make him do what he has to."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. Hermione noticed the lack of response and turned to her, confused.

"What? Oh…" Hermione realized why Ginny was raising her eyebrows, and she flushed. "Oh, Ginny, honestly, you're as bad as boys! Not everybody thinks that way, darling. And besides, if I meant _that_- which I certainly do not- I would not be mentioning it to you, his sister, don't you think that would be a little awkward?"

As if this wasn't awkward. Ginny nodded and they resumed walking quietly, this time with Hermione thinking about something else, and making faces and shaking her head a lot.

They arrived at the common room, gave the password, and went inside. 

"Harry's not here, is he?" she asked Neville.

"No," he replied, without even looking up from his book, _The De Vinci Code_.

Ginny went up to the dorm to get a book, too, and then returned to sit by the fire. Hermione went up to her dorm and stayed there. After a few minutes, Ginny heard the portrait swing open and turned to see who it was.

Harry took a breath and entered. People always turned to look when the portrait hole opened, but in his case, unfortunately, they kept on looking. He scanned the room for Neville, but he didn't see him because he was in a corner, with the back of the chair facing away from the entrance. Harry met Ginny's eyes for a second, but quickly moved on. Girls just wanted to talk about things just so damn much. He needed a guy just to drink beer and watch football with (or a non-alcoholic Hogwarts version of it, he wasn't really picky). 

He walked for what seemed an interminable length to the stairs, then climbed up to his dorm. He opened to door to find Ron and Dean playing chess. Ron was winning by a huge margin, as usual.

"Hey," they greeted him, looking up only for a moment before returning to the game.

"Hey." Harry came over to sit on Ron's bed and watch.

"Checkmate!" Ron said triumphantly. Dean groaned with a practiced martyred expression on his face. 

"All right, enough, we played three games already- my pieces aren't going to trust me anymore."

"Any more takers?" Ron looked at Harry. 

Harry had been going to ask where Neville was, but decided that that could wait until later. He nodded at Ron and sat down across from him.

"Black or white?" Ron asked.

"Black," Harry replied.

Ron gave him white.

"Jerk."

"Thanks. Proud of it."

Then they sat and played in comfortable silence, punctuated only by Harry's annoyed remarks as Ron systematically picked apart his defense. No Death Eaters, no Voldemort, no deep conversations…

Beer and football, Harry thought, should be a way of life.

*          *          *

Three black-hooded figures stood near the edge of the forest, barely visible even though it was broad daylight. 

"We don't have to wait much longer," one said. "Soon the boy will be out of school and ours for the kidnapping."

"Yes," the second one replied almost blissfully. "And he'll be such easy prey, you know, with all that trauma, poor thing." He laughed, a short and derisive laugh.

"Is everything set up?" the first one asked, turning.

"Yes," the third one said, "The details were confirmed yesterday."

"Excellent. Now about the second par-" He paused. Something- or someone- was rustling in the bushes. He tensed up and reflexively cried, "Stupefy Exaggerandum!" A wide-range beam shot from his wand, in case there was more than one someone. He motioned for the others to follow him, and they levitated themselves to the source of the noise. There they found-

-a possum. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief, then was immediately disgusted with himself for feeling so apprehensive. Caution was always important, but he should never feel fear. That was the first lesson his Master had taught him, and he would never forget it. To carry on the Lord's noble work, he would have to be tougher.

"Perhaps we should meet again, later," the third one suggested.

"No," the first one dismissed the notion quickly. "Don't be a dolt, night is when they look for us. During the day they're all busy. Except for that insufferable Moody. We must dispose of him as soon as possible. I don't like having an enemy with that eye of his. Tell your men to watch out for him- he can see through anything. But I'm getting off track here. Where was I? Oh, yes, the second part. Are we any closer to getting the 'sweet ones' on our side?"

"Almost there, sir, but it had been difficult to get to them. In a few weeks I may have an opportunity, but I cannot be certain about their loyalties until then."

The first one nodded. "Try for days instead of weeks." He turned to the third one. "And as for you, have the 'bunnies' joined yet either?"

He sadly shook his head. "No, sir. The 'bunnies' don't trust us, but they don't trust them either. I simply couldn't convince them."

The first one suddenly got very angry. "Well, that is 'simply' not acceptable," he said in a soft, dangerous voice. His eyes darkened, and his gaze was so fierce that lightning bolts could have been shooting out. "You are given a job, and you do it or die trying. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. And that goes for you, too," he said, turning that frightening stare on the second. "You would both do well to remember that." If possible, his voice grew even softer. "I have to go now. I will get word to you about the next time we will meet, and I expect to see progress." Then he Apparated away.

The second and third figures were left, not staring at each other but thinking the same thing: _what had happened to their comrade to make him so fanatic?_ Voldemort had often been harsh, but, knowing everything, he was always fair. With Malfoy, on the other hand, it was different.

The third one Apparated to do their leader's command, while the second one took a few moments to recover from the shock of the answer to his own question:

power.


	2. The Best Laid Plans

**The Best Laid Plans**

"Now, I want each of you to fill out these questionnaires by Saturday," said Professor McGonagall, as she began Banishing them to each student's desk. "They're meant to help you choose jobs and choose some classes to start preparing for them. I know you have a lot to do with preparing for N.E.W.T.'s, but these questionnaires are of the utmost importance because you will be graduating soon, and if you haven't planned out what you're going to do with your life, you may end up not doing anything at all." She let that sink in for a minute. "Also, on the bottom of the sheet, you will find a list of schools for higher magical education- for you Muggle-borns, that's the wizarding equivalent of college. I suggest that you look up these schools and see if they have courses for what you're interested in." She paused, seeming to be deciding whether or not to teach for the remaining two minutes of class. Mercy won. "You are dismissed." 

Harry took his time gathering his books while everyone else rushed out of the classroom, talking excitedly. He wondered what he'd do for a living after he got out of school. He realized that he had never really given it much thought before. Of course, for the past seven years he'd been a little preoccupied trying to keep himself alive. He glanced at the form in front of him. 

The first question read: _What subjects do you enjoy?_ Well, that's easy, he thought- none of them! He moved on to the next one: _Why do you enjoy these subjects?_ Hmmm, let's see, I don't enjoy them because they're bloody futile! Learning doesn't make people better, and it doesn't correct things. After that, he didn't even bother reading the rest of the questions. He just shoved the sheet in his knapsack and went to catch up with Ron and Hermione before they freaked out that he'd stayed behind. 

Sure enough, just as he was leaving, he almost ran smack into Hermione. 

"Oh, uh, yeah, I was just seeing where you were." Hermione was a bit flustered and a little embarrassed that Harry had caught her being overly concerned. 

"Well, I'm here." They stood there for a moment, a little awkwardly. "Oh! What do we have next?" 

"Potions." She made a face. "Wonder how Snape'll phrase his encouragements for higher education: '_For those of you with a decent scrap of talent for potions- the number of which is decidedly very low- there are jobs available mostly in professions for Healing. I will not, however, waste more than a minute of class time on this, as-'_ Oh my god!" Hermione cried. "Snape! We're late!" 

With that, she grabbed Harry's arm and started barreling towards the dungeon. Once there, she stopped for a moment to compose herself, then opened the door gently. Snape was in the middle of writing the ingredients for a Role-Reversal Potion . 

"Ah, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, so glad you could take time out of your busy schedules to grace us with your presence," Snape drawled. "Unfortunately, you are supposed to work around my schedule, not the other way around. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and take your seats and try to catch up because I am not repeating anything." He turned and began writing once more. 

Ron gave them a look. He was not happy about Gryffindor losing any points because the competition for the House Cup had been especially hard this year, just as it had been for the Quidditch Cup. Ron would not be able to stand it if Slytherin won both. He shuddered and tried to clear his head of those unhappy thoughts. 

Harry and Hermione dumped their bags on the floor and slipped into their seats. "So, what exciting potion are we brewing today?" Harry whispered to Ron. He was immediately sorry because at that moment, Snape had paused almost imperceptibly, but then continued writing. Ron sighed and shot Harry another look, then took out a piece of parchment. 

_

Write on this instead of talking, you dolt. We're doing a Role-Reversal Potion. You brew it up, put someone's hair in it, then drink it. It makes you able to think about things from the other person's perspective while still keeping your own thoughts. It's usually used in anger management therapy, you know, to help people understand other people's points of view better so they won't get angry. It's actually kind of cool.

_

Ron handed the parchment over to Harry, who read it and nodded in silent thanks. With nothing left to distract them, they turned their attention back to Snape just in time to hear the end of his annoying speech. 

"-will be working with one partner, obviously. I will be pairing you up with that person. Please adhere to the measurements on the board- they are set up specifically to make the potion last for fifteen minutes only. And, of course, follow the instructions carefully, or you could end up poisoning yourself. For homework, you will write an essay hypothesizing about the unknown substance, which must be at least one foot long. Begin." 

"Well, wasn't that a happy note to end with?" Harry remarked to Ron wryly. 

"Yeah, sure, that's great. Can we just get on with this stupid potion already?" 

Harry was surprised. "What happened to you?" 

"Fight with Hermione, really don't want to go into it now." Ron saw that Harry was about to say something, so he said, "Oh, no, don't ask me 'when did this happen.' It was recently, and even if it wasn't you probably wouldn't have noticed- no offense, you really just don't notice much around you- so leave it for now, okay?" 

"Okay." Harry was slightly worried, but knew Ron would be fine. He looked up at the board and was relieved to find that the potion was not all that hard to make. He heated his cauldron, crushed his dried beetles, carefully cut his boomslang, and then added oil and water to the cauldron. He put the beetles and boomslang in the cauldron, along with a vial of the unknown substance Snape had provided. He had actually been concentrating decently and was even a little proud of himself when the liquid turned an iridescent turquoise, as it was supposed to. He lowered the flame and let it sit for a minute before going up to Snape. 

"Professor? I'm done with my potion. Am I supposed to be paired with someone now?" 

"You're finished?" Even Harry could hear the shock in Snape's voice, which was unusual because Snape was always very composed. "Let me see," he sneered, but there was just a twinge of curiosity to it. Harry led him to the bench and showed him the cauldron. 

"It is the right color and-" he spooned some of it up then let it fall gently back in "-the right texture. A large improvement over your _other_ potion failures. You may begin your homework until someone else finish-" 

The Professor didn't get to finish his sentence, because sparks were flying from Neville Longbottom's corner of the room. Snape strode over and said something to Neville very quietly. Neville put out his flame and walked into Snape's office, with Snape following behind him. 

The class was silent for a moment, staring, then most of the students returned to their work. Unfortunately, not all of them did. 

"Wonder what Snape'll give him this time," Draco Malfoy said loudly, although not loudly enough to be heard by Snape himself. "Hopefully a lesson in actually doing something right!" He laughed unkindly. 

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy." Harry hated it even more now when Malfoy made fun of Neville. Neville had gone though so much and was still sane (as opposed to his parents, sadly). Malfoy, the little pampered jerk, had never had to deal with half of what Neville had. "Just because you're a spoiled, pompous jerk doesn't mean you have to act that way whenever you can." 

"But if I didn't, then I wouldn't be such a jerk, now would I? And that would be a terrible loss to the world." 

"And why, pray tell, would that be such a loss?" 

"Everyone's always so _nice_, so _understanding_- if I didn't criticize people and make them realize their faults, who would?" 

"Ah, yes, what a martyr you are, providing this invaluable service to people who really don't care for it." 

"Exactly. I knew you'd see my point," Malfoy said smugly. Harry was about to argue further, but Snape and Neville returned. 

"Is everyone done with their potions?" He asked. They all nodded. "Good. Now for the pairings:" he looked down at the list. 

"Abbott and Goyle!" (both looked repulsed) 

"Granger and Bulstrode!" (Hermione grimaced) 

"Malfoy and... (Harry prepared to get up, as Snape always chose them to pair each other) Weasley!" Ron looked very surprised and very angry, but he got up and brought his cauldron over to Malfoy. 

"Potter and Parkinson!" Harry's first feeling was revulsion, but he, too, reluctantly got up. Snape called the rest of the names, and Harry didn't pay much attention except that he noticed Neville was not called. He stuck that fact into the back of his brain to ponder later. 

"Hello," he said to Pansy politely. She glared back at him. _Fine_, he thought, _don't have manners, not my problem_. They each poured some of the potion into their respective glasses, and added in one of the other's hairs. 

Harry didn't feel different for a moment, but then suddenly it felt like he was floating. It was almost like being under Imperious, except no one was telling him what to do. Instead, he heard Pansy's voice. Not quite her thoughts, but what she would think. 

'Why do I have to be paired with Potter? Oh, he doesn't seem that bad, but Draco really doesn't like him. Oh, Draco...why couldn't I have been paired with you? Across the room, slivery-blond hair that needs a trim falling in your eyes, sneering at Weasley, trying to put up with your annoying pairing. Oh, how handsome you are. And you've got some guts, too. Well, supposedly Potter has also, but even with all of his adventures, no one ever sees him doing anything heroic, so he could be making that up. I'm so glad you showed me how silly my hero-worship was. You should be paired with me- in potions and in general. Oh...' 

Harry desperately wanted to turn off this silly, vapid, shallow little voice in his head, but he was really surprised at the last comment. He detected some anger and jealousy, strong emotions that he was surprised to discover this shallow person possessed. Okay, maybe that wasn't very nice of him to assume she wouldn't have complex emotions, but honestly, to listen to the girl- well, he really was justified in his original assumption. He wondered what Pansy was hearing. 

Pansy, too, didn't feel different for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, there were new thoughts in her head. Not her own, but they just seemed to pop up. 

'I wish I wasn't in potions. Pansy's annoying, that shallow silly girl. Ron would be a much better partner. Oh, well, only fifteen minutes and then I'm done for this whole ridiculous week. It'd be much nicer if I could be done with my whole stupid life! Y'know, people think 'wow, wouldn't it be incredible to be Harry Potter, he's a great wizard.' Okay, it's kind of pompous to think that, but people do think it. But really, they don't know at all. It's pressure, and it sucks, and it's not really fun to kill people, even if they do terrible things- cause they started out human, and no matter what, that's the way they end. And it's not right to kill. sigh I just want it all to be over...' 

At first, Pansy had been quite insulted, but as she listened more, she became intrigued. She even thought she felt a tiny bit sorry for him in the end. If this was really what he would think, then he truly must have killed Voldemort. Which means that he probably did at least _some_ of the other stuff he claimed. She'd never thought it was hard to be him, she'd always gone along with Draco in bothering him, because- well, she never knew exactly what Draco held against him, but she guessed it was a healthy mixture of disdain, hurt pride, and jealousy. Maybe she'd try to stop him from bothering Harry so much. Because really, Harry had even sounded a little suicidal! Yeah, she should definitely try to stop Draco, even a little. 

At this point, the potion was wearing off, and both Pansy's and Harry's voices were fading in the other's brain. They looked at each other, a little dazed, then quickly looked away. It was kind of awkward, seeing each other normally right after getting such an intimate peek into the other's thoughts. 

"The potion should be wearing off by now," Snape called. "If you are done, you may pack up your things and leave. But remember to do your homework, although if you don't I will happily take a generous amount of House points." Harry could've sworn Snape looked at the Gryffindors at that last comment, but let it go because even if Snape had, there was nothing Harry could do. 

He dumped his things in his knapsack, eager to get out of there. "Bye," he called over his shoulder to Pansy. 

"Oh? Oh, bye." Pansy looked at him as if from a daze, seeming to see him for the first time. He mentally shuddered. He didn't like being under such a look, so he quickly exited. 

Ron noticed him going and wanted to go after him, but he had to clean up first. That git Malfoy had made him so angry that he'd knocked over his extra beetles. And Malfoy, of course, had left immediately to let Ron deal with the mess. It was interesting to see how just a few moments ago, he'd been almost feeling something towards Malfoy that didn't border on hate. But, luckily, Malfoy had been his usual disgusting self and curbed that reaction. Ron shook his head, and at that moment, dropped half of the beetle he had collected. With a grunt of frustration, he leaned down to pick them up, and decided to analyze what he'd heard later. 

**000000000000000000000000000000**

Hermione was in the library, having finished first despite having Millicent Bulstrode as a partner. She was reading up on potions, trying to figure out the unknown substance. She hadn't had a terribly interesting time hearing thoughts from Millicent's point of view, but she couldn't hate the girl anymore. She tried to concentrate, but her thoughts turned back to Ron and that stupid fight. She felt really bad about what she'd said, but it would be so humiliating to have to admit that to Ron's face. But then, she mused, maybe that's what a relationship is. Giving up your pride and being willing to admit what you did and still trusting that the other person will respect you. She sighed and closed the book, and set off to find Ron. Damn morals that wouldn't let her put it off. 

She looked at her watch- it was just one. So Ron would most likely be having lunch. She took her (rather large) stack of books and set off towards the Great Hall. On her way there, though, she bumped into Ron. 

"Oh, I was just going to see you. I have something to say to you." She was surprised and a little flustered inside, though she didn't let it show. She had planned to rehearse what she was going to say on the way to the Great Hall, but now she'd just have to spit it out. 

"What do you have to say?" Ron asked. Of course Ron knew what she was going to say- or rather what she'd better say if she valued his companionship- but he wanted to make her squirm a bit. She did deserve it. 

"To say-" She paused. Oh, God, this was harder than she thought. "I'm sorry," and she looked straight into his eyes. "I'm sorry for saying that you were a stupid, immature git who is no better than Malfoy." She paused to take a breath. 

"Anything else?" His face was stern, but he was really caving. 

"And for saying that the only reason you don't like him is because he has money." She winced as she said it. "I really do regret saying that, and I know it's not true. It's just, I was really annoyed at you, and it just popped out cause I knew it would make you angry. Okay, I know that's not a justification, but, you know, it's the reason I did it- I never said the reason was a valid one, but- what are you smiling about?" 

Ron was grinning broadly. He had started in the middle of Hermione's self-deprecating rant and just could not stop. But then, suddenly she'd stopped, demanding to know why he was smiling. He couldn't explain to her it words, so he just stepped forward and kissed her instead. They kissed for a few moments, and when they parted, he said, "Just for being you, Hermione. Just for that." 

She was puzzled, but decided to let it go. They held hands, intertwining their fingers, and headed for the Gryffindor Tower.

**00000000000000000000000000000000000**

Harry sat alone in the Great Hall. Well, not alone, per se. There were other people around, just not other people that were his friends. He wondered where Ron and Hermione were. As soon as his brain started thinking of possibilities, he realized that he really did _not_ want to know. 

He pondered over Pansy's thoughts. They were a lot deeper than he'd given her credit for, although she really did sound ditzy being so fixated on Malfoy. He was a bit shocked to hear that she'd once hero-worshipped him, as he'd always figured that the Slytherins didn't admire anyone but one of their own. But the thing that intrigued him the most was how forceful she sounded when she wished she and Malfoy were going out. He glanced over his shoulder to scrutinize her, to wonder if this girl was really the same one whose thoughts he had heard. 

Naturally, that was the moment that she was looking his way. She glared at him as if to say, what are you doing looking at me, Potter? He moved his gaze across the room to make it seem as if he was looking at the whole room and his gaze had just happened to be on her at that moment. He turned back to his food. Suddenly, he was bored. No, not quite bored- lonely. It was a new feeling, he hadn't had it that much before, but it was persistent. He was just about to get up to get a book so he wouldn't just be sitting feeling stupid when a certain red-headed girl plopped down beside him. 

"Hey!" Ginny always sounded energetic. 

"Hey," he replied. "What are you doing?" 

"Well, now I'm sitting here, obviously, but before I was doing this massively evil potions assignment. Ugh." She made face. 

Harry smiled sympathetically, but really he was smiling because her liveliness was contagious. Well, contagious liveliness certainly felt better than depressed loneliness. "Sorry about potions. If it makes you feel better, I bothered Snape today." 

"Oh, really? What'd you do?" she asked eagerly. 

"I actually completed the potion- the first one in the class." 

Ginny made another face, yet not quite so hideous this time. "You suck. I mean, it's really good that you annoyed Snape, you just suck because you're better at potions than me." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's such a bad thing to succeed." 

"Oh, you." she shoved him, but not too hard. "It's not good to be sarcastic to a nice, sweet, impressionable young girl," she said innocently. "She might learn from you." 

He snorted. "Ginny, you grew up with Fred and George. There is nothing that you have not been exposed to." 

"Oh, too right," she groaned. At the mention of their names, she began to remember all of those _darling_ things they had exposed her to. Oh, well, at least they were funny and successful. 

"Oh! Speaking of them, I promised I'd try out for the team, now that you're a Chaser short." She paused to see how Harry would take this- the team was a Chaser short because Neville was in no condition to play. "So, can I try out?"

"Definitely! It's actually good that you reminded me, cause we have a match against Slytherin in a week and a half. When do you want to try out?" 

"Um, now?" She looked unsure that he would agree. "In mean, you could finish your lunch first, but I really don't like tryouts, and I kinda want to get it over with." 

"Oh, it's fine, I wasn't really hungry anyway." Uh, oh, he thought, she was starting to get that worried look. "I'm fine, I'm just not always starving." She turned and raised her eyebrows when she thought Harry couldn't see. "I saw that," he said. 

"Saw what?" she asked. 

"Nothing." He raised his own eyebrows a few times for emphasis on the nothing. "Come on, let's go." 

They walked outside to the broom shed and grabbed their brooms. It was a beautiful day outside, just warm enough to be comfortable, with sweet air blowing in the gentle breeze. Ginny inhaled deeply. She loved it like this. She mounted her broom and shot off like a rocket. Harry followed, yelling at her to slow down. 

He grabbed the Quaffle and started tossing it to her at all angles. She caught every pass and threw it back to him with equal, if not greater, force. After a bit, she took off her robes because it was getting too hot, and Harry did the same. 

Then he conjured some moving objects roughly the size of people and flew in sort of a formation with her, seeing how well she balanced looking forwards, at him (representing the other players), and at the goal. She performed remarkably, getting goals from all angles. After a little over an hour, he called her down because he was getting tired. 

"So, how did I do?" she looked at him expectantly. 

He looked at her incredulously. "Where have you been since Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, Fred, and George graduated??" 

She blushed and grinned. "So I'm on the team?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh!" she squealed, and she threw her arms around his neck. He smiled, too- she was just so damn happy, and he couldn't be anything _but _when he was around her. 

"Sorry to interrupt your sweet little moment, but some of us come here to play Quidditch, not watch people snog," drawled Malfoy. 

Harry was about to tell him off, but Ginny got there first. "We weren't snogging, Malfoy, or do you just have such a sick mind that when you see people hugging your mind automatically jumps farther? And some of us came here to play Quiddich, but we're done now, which is very lucky because I don't think I could stand your snotty little ass existing in the same airspace as me." She turned to Harry and grabbed his arm (a little too forcefully, reminding him of Hermione). "Let's go." With that, she grabbed her robes and stalked off, albeit almost dragging Harry. 

Draco watched them for a minute, then began flying on his broom. Damn, that little Weasley was feisty. He could have fun with someone feisty, he thought as he smiled to himself. But, of course, she was a Weasley, and he shuddered to think of associating with someone of such low monetary status. Just like older Weasley. He shuddered again, recalling how older Weasley had been able to hear what he would think, even if only for a few minutes. 

Hopefully, Weasley would forget it and let Malfoy do the same, but Weasley wasn't one to withhold a powerful weapon like that; especially after years of being the brunt of so many mean jokes. 

For a moment, Malfoy almost felt guilty about all the ribbing he gave Weasley, because now it just might come back to bite him in the butt. Thankfully, the moment passed, and he resumed thinking in his usual pompous way. He was grateful that his father could not hear his thoughts, for he would be appalled to discover how much thought Draco was spending on the annoying Weasleys. 

He shook his head to clear it. He looked around and realized that he'd flown almost completely over the Forbidden Forest. He turned around to head back to the school. He leaned down to his broom handle, exhilarated with the rush he got from going so fast. God, he loved flying. The air was cool on his face, whistling in his ears, and he was truly happy, which was a decidedly rare thing. Even his usually dour outlook could not put a damper on the beautiful day. He looked down at the forest, in awe yet another time how high and majestic he felt, when suddenly he saw a small group of black-robed figures appear. He swooped down to investigate... 


End file.
